The Will Of The Wongs

Arthur arrived at the Wong house precisely at the allotted time, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. The door swung open, and Kimi stood there, but her usual icy demeanor was absent. She welcomed him with a tight hug, her lips brushing against the vulnerable skin of his neck, a gesture that was both sensual and proprietary. She held his hand as she led him to the back room, a silent and intimate procession.

Mrs. Wong sat in her chair, a vision of intimidating authority. Dressed in tight black rubber that hugged every commanding curve, she looked up as they entered. "Arthur, dear, how nice to see you." She waved a dismissive hand at Kimi. "That will be all. This conversation is for Arthur alone and me." Once the door clicked shut, Arthur felt the air grow thick.

"Mrs. Wong," he began, forcing some steel into his voice, "I'm sorry how things turned out, but I need this thing off me."

"What thing, darling?" she asked, her voice deceptively sweet.

"The... cage," he stammered. "Please, I'm tired of playing games."

"Is that what you think this is, Arthur? A game?" She stood and walked toward him, the scent of expensive perfume mingling with the sharp smell of rubber. His traitorous cock strained against its metal prison. "You filthy animal," she hissed, her visage twisting. "Thinking you can use and abuse a sweet, innocent girl with your wealth and your perversions."

"Now wait just a—" The slap was hard and fast, cracking across his face. The sting brought instant tears to his eyes.

"Silence, pig!" Her voice was a whip crack. "Get on your knees!" The second slap broke something in him, and he sank to the floor. She grabbed his hair, yanking his head back painfully. "We told you what life with my beautiful Mei would be like, didn't we? We warned you. And you promised, in front of all her family, that you would do your best to please her."

"But please, you must understand—" He was pleading now, broken.

"Oh, I understand perfectly, Arthur. You are not man enough to keep your word." She released his head with a shove. "Now, what is it you want from me?"

"I want this thing off me, please, Mrs. Wong."

"Well then, you had better strip and beg for me to release you. Like you should be begging my sweet daughter to take you back." She walked back and sat in her chair, the rubber creaking as she crossed her legs.

He did as he was ordered, the expensive suit pooling on the floor until he was naked and kneeling before her, the cold metal a constant, cruel reminder of his submission. "Please, Mrs. Wong, I beg you, release me, please."

"Ha!" she barked out a laugh. "You call that begging? Slither along the floor, like the worm you are. Put those useless lips on my boots, and then beg properly."

Humiliation burned through him, but stronger was the desperate need for freedom. He lowered himself to the floor, the polished wood cold against his cheek, and crawled the few feet to her chair. His lips pressed against the toe of her gleaming boot, the leather tasting of polish and power. "Please, Mistress Wong," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Please, I beg you. I am nothing. I am a worm. Please release your worthless cock from this cage."

After what felt like an eternity, she seemed satisfied. She tossed him a black leather hood. "Put it on. I'm tired of seeing your pathetic face."

He slid it over his head, the world plunging into padded darkness. He knelt there, trembling, listening. He heard footsteps behind him. The zipper on the back of the hood was pulled down, tightening, molding to his face. Then the two straps at the back were pulled viciously tight and buckled, compressing his jaw. A heavy collar was buckled around his neck. His arms were grabbed and pulled behind him, the sharp click of handcuffs confirming his capture.

"Take him upstairs," Mrs. Wong's voice commanded. Two sets of strong hands pulled him to his feet and guided him out of the room, his bare feet shuffling on the carpet, a prisoner being led to his sentencing.